


Brutus

by hauntedpoem



Series: Gaunts & Riddles (& sometimes Malfoys) [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Grief/Mourning, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, consequences of inbreeding, disturbing fic, the Malfoys are inbred AF, unsettling themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-22 10:08:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30037083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hauntedpoem/pseuds/hauntedpoem
Summary: Junius Brutus Malfoy copes the only way he knows how: he doesn't.Work related to Odette & A Chest of Riddles.
Relationships: Brutus Malfoy/ Emmeline Borgins, Brutus Malfoy/ OFC, Brutus Malfoy/ Odette Malfoy
Series: Gaunts & Riddles (& sometimes Malfoys) [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2159907





	Brutus

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: triggering language & imagery

Dust settled over his work desk after the many months it was left unused. The dark wood of his study used to shine and smell of beeswax as well as fresh parchment and ink. When she left for good, he took to drinking but as he usually needed somewhere to collapse, he moved to the bedroom to exercise his habit. When he woke up, he began drinking again. When he fell face-down on the mattress, it was in relief. He hoped he wouldn’t have to do it again, wake up, he meant. His father is furious with him and his mother pretends he’s not there, on the rare occasions he descends for breakfast or dinner.

It doesn’t really matter, he tells himself. If they wanted to correct this, they would find him another girl to marry and they would produce an heir and he could just drink himself unconscious again. He doesn’t really care.

That Borgin man usually pesters them with owls and sometimes he even dared send him a howler. His father takes care of it, as per usual. There is no need to fret, no need to put his mind to work, no need to right this wrong. And Brutus Senior is awfully upset with him, he doesn’t even want to look upon his only son’s face but he communicates enough, enough for him to get the gist of what’s going on.

It’s blackmail.

How petty do the Borgins have to be to resort to blackmail?

His mother is disgusted at the prospect. After all, it mustn’t be his fault. It was the fault of the French that his wife was from a bad batch. Upon Odette’s betrayal, his mother cut all contact with the French Malfoys. His father was not too pleased but what could he have done? Upset the Malfoy dragoness further?

But Junius Brutus knew, deep inside his heart, that he was the rotten Malfoy. The fruit of the cousins union trying to replicate itself. Their whole branch was rotten, seeping with inbred madness and cruelty. She told him in the end and he should have listened and accepted his role. He was her cousin, after all, and anything that came from their union was bound to be foul, deformed and unviable.

She thinks he hasn’t seen them, but he did. The alcohol helped mask the pangs of guilt and terror that always seemed to wake up at night. Her spellwork was magnificent but the manor’s magic was more so. Every bloodied sheet, every tiny limb, every viscous piece of human flesh that tore from inside her. He’s seen and mutedly, he kept hold of them.

At night, he bawled.

And so, he drank.

His mother’s letters were venom. He cannot well imagine what she would have written to Odette. What other abominations would she ask into existence? She wanted an heir. No, she demanded one, and like an automaton, he would find himself in his wife’s chambers, scratching, begging at her door.

It was a sick, sad game of procreation.

The affair with the Borgins girl, though, was not supposed to happen. After Odette left, they all seemed to leave him alone. The castle in Wales suited them better than the manor. They said they were tired. The dragoness wept and his father could only look at him with dark, unforgiving eyes. It was then that Brutus knew the power of a woman over a man. He’s seen it daily in his parents’ dynamic. She always seemed to drag him down with the power of her cunt. Disgusting yet so compelling.

Were their previous attempts at procreation as horrendous as his? Did they keep the results? And so, the Borgins girl was bedded but not wedded. He sank inside her warm wetness as he wept and for an instant, he felt that cut mend itself, the foulness seeping away and probably slithering deep, in the recess of her most sacred wound. The vas mirabile that would receive his seed and through this most unholy alchemy, the Malfoys could finally have their heir.

It worked but he forgot he wanted it to. Maybe she planned it all along, maybe it was her that made him do those things to her.

“Look, girl, look what you made me do.” He whispered. He would have never betrayed Odette, of course, so it surely must have been some potion at work. He’d found a vial, full of that cursed potion though. Did she poison him? Perhaps. But they must not think him impure because he was still waiting, waiting for his wife to come back to their home.

When the Aurors were allowed through the wards, he’d had several glasses of the strongest firewhiskey on the market. It made things easier.

“She made me do it,” he whined in a display of weakness and waited for them to go away and take that blight with them so he can collapse again and wait for _her_. Odette, cousin, dragoness. For _her_ , he’d sacrifice that girl to Azkaban. Why won’t she reply to his letters? Why won’t she return to his bed? Why won’t she think of the manor as her home anymore?

Reginald Borgins was a master manipulator. Junius Brutus Malfoy signed more than fifty Gringotts’ checks to his name. He wasn’t convinced, though – it was hard to distinguish reality from fantasy lately. The man threatened to spill his secrets out. The Malfoys had an heir, he said, and he was crying in their foyer, suckling at that girl’s breast. It should have brought him happiness but instead, it only brought out the worst in him.

Especially when she dared cross his threshold with that crying bundle in her arms. Especially then.

**Author's Note:**

> Might need a part II in order to set things straight.


End file.
